


we all need someone to hold

by maybankiara (juggyjones)



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, JJ Maybank-centric, M/M, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24705943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juggyjones/pseuds/maybankiara
Summary: JJ sticks a hand out, placing it on his friend’s back, rubbing it a little then squeezing it. ‘We’ll figure it out, Pope. They’re not dead. For all we know, they’re on their way to the gold as we speak.’Pope doesn’t say anything, but his body lets out one strong shake, and JJ squeezes his arm again.‘It’s okay to cry,’ he says.— in which pope breaks after the storm in which john b and sarah vanish, and jj is there to keep him from falling apart.
Relationships: JJ Maybank/Pope Heyward
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	we all need someone to hold

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i know this is super short but it's just a scene i'd love to have seen. it's not _strictly_ romantic mayward, but it isn't just platonic, either. i didn't want to wary too much from the actual show. feelings are hinted, though. 
> 
> title from _someone to stay_ by vancouver sleep clinic.

Things happen like a dream. JJ doesn’t remember the events or their particular sequence, just that they happened, and even that is more of a vague collection of flashes than a solid memory.

Kiara is the first to leave – her parents take her home. JJ’s just standing there, in the tent, unable to comprehend what’s happening, until Heyward’s tugging at his sleeve, ‘ _Come with us, kid_.’ Next thing he knows, he’s wearing pajama pants and Pope’s t-shirt and there’s a mattress on the floor in Pope’s bedroom and it’s just…

It’s a lot. JJ blinks when he sees a shadow on the floor, recognises the owner even before he feels the scent of Pope’s shower gel.

The boy plops on his bed, face-down. He’s wearing the same attire as JJ, just in different colours, and it looks odd. It shouldn’t – they’ve seen each other like this more than once.

But it looks odd. Because it’s just Pope. There’s no Kie. No John B.

_John B._

At his sides, JJ’s hands form fists. He’s standing still, as if turned to stone; but he’s shaking, underneath his skin, within his muscles, he’s trembling and vibrating and it feels like there’s a bomb ticking in there. He breathes shallowly, at first, as he’s learned to take control over his breathing without the other person noticing; he stands still, unnoticeable, nonthreatening.

He _breathes._

When JJ’s eyes stop being blurry with a single tear falling down his cheek, he snaps out of the daze. His hand’s quick to wipe the tear under the pretence of pushing back his hair, and when his eyes finally focus on Pope, he thinks he might’ve failed.

Pope’s looking at him, a perplexed expression on his face. He’s propped up on his elbow, still on his stomach, and the position is so _Pope_ that JJ doesn’t even have to fake the smile.

There’s always going to be moments when he isn’t strong enough, but they don’t last long. He can’t have them last long.

JJ walks to the door and closes it. Heyward won’t mind.

When he plops down on the mattress, Pope leans over the edge of his bed, his eyebrows furrowed. The only light that’s on in the room is the bedside lamp between the two of them, and it’s making him almost glow in the dark.

They don’t say anything, for a bit. JJ’s grinning at Pope and Pope looks like he’s got some thoughts going through his brain.

‘You okay?’ asks JJ.

Pope just stares at him, then sighs. ‘I should be asking you that, JJ.’

‘I’m good.’ JJ swallows the lump in his throat and puts his hands behind his head, not moving his eyes off Pope’s. ‘Life’s shit. I’ve always known that. It’s just _fucking_ shit now.’

There’s a quiet ‘mhm’ coming from the Heyward boy as he lets his head drop into the duvet. Usually, Pope would argue – not tonight.

JJ sticks a hand out, placing it on his friend’s back, rubbing it a little then squeezing it. ‘We’ll figure it out, Pope. They’re not dead. For all we know, they’re on their way to the gold as we speak.’

Pope doesn’t say anything, but his body lets out one strong shake, and JJ squeezes his arm again.

‘It’s okay to cry,’ he says.

‘You never do.’ Pope’s voice is muffled and breaking, and it starts to break JJ, too. ‘You hate crying.’

‘Pope. You’re not me, bubba. You know better than to do what I do.’

There’s a hand on top of JJ’s and from then on, JJ doesn’t know who’s comforting who. But he isn’t crying, Pope is. Pope’s shaking and all JJ does is let him know he’s there, right by his side, no matter how he needs him. The boy’s hands are gripping the fabric of JJ’s shirt, clutching it between his fingers, and his tears are leaving wet stains on the front side of the fabric.

JJ just holds him. His hands are wrapped around Pope, pulling him closer until his friend’s face is buried in his chest and the sobs are carving at JJ’s heart. He grits his teeth, pushing away the hurt. There’s a lot he could say, a lot Kiara usually says when JJ needs comforting, but they won’t do Pope good.

When tears begin to sting JJ’s eyes, too, he closes his eyes shut, presses them so hard his head begins to hurt, and it takes away from every other pain.

Pope continues to heave against his chest. He might’ve ripped the fabric – JJ isn’t bothered by it.

‘Shh,’ he whispers, rubbing Pope’s back. ‘Let it out.’

They stay like this, for a while. Pope doesn’t stop crying, sobs on and off, instead, but he doesn’t let go of JJ.

He doesn’t pull back. JJ is the one to take hold of his shoulders and push him away, just far enough to take a look at his face.

Pope looks crushed. His cheeks are swollen, the skin underneath his eyes dark and blotchy, and the low lamp light makes his eyes look blood-red. He’s shaking, still, lip quivering, and he looks as if he might fall apart if JJ lets him go too soon.

JJ’s hands move from his shoulders to cupping Pope’s cheeks. ‘We’re going to figure it out, okay, Pope?’

Pope nods. It’s weak, but JJ feels it in his hands, and some weight lifts off his chest.

He nods, too, an encouragement of sorts. ‘Tonight, we get some rest. The storm is still being a bitch and there’s nothing we can do. We’ll start thinking of a plan tomorrow, but we can’t do it like this. Got it?’

Pope nods again.

JJ lets his hands fall, his palms cold at the sudden loss of Pope’s warmth. He tries brushing it off, running them over his pajama pants, but it doesn’t feel the same. His heart is still heavy and Pope’s eyes are still transfixed on his as if he were his lifeline, and JJ has to look away.

He can’t be anyone’s lifeline. Not through this.

The mattress he lies on is soft and feels more welcoming than the one back “home” ever could. He’s lying on it for a mere minute, eyes wide open and breathing forcefully still, when a slight touch brushes his hair.

He turns around, acing Pope. The expression on the boy’s face is undecipherable, in a way that makes him feel uneasy.

Pope clears his throat, quietly. ‘I don’t want to be alone right now.’

That’s all JJ needs to hear.

It takes a little shuffling for them both to fit under the covers in Pope’s tiny bed, but they do, and Pope lets JJ wrap his arms around him. One of JJ’s hands is resting against Pope’s chest and he feels his heart steady, and he rests his head against the back of Pope’s neck and he hears his breathing steady, too, and the shakes finally go.

It’s in JJ’s arms that Pope finally finds a semblance of peace; it’s holding Pope in his arms that JJ finally lets himself crumble.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! i like to think that jj would step up if need be, be the logical one if pope couldn't be. i love their dynamic and i have so much more in store for these two. in the meantime, you can come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://maybankiara.tumblr.com)!


End file.
